


heart song

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Drugs, Eating Disorders, Fluff, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sad, Why did I start this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:59:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7881037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After recovering from a drug addiction and eating disorder, Louis finds himself emersed in the world of music, playing the piano for weddings, birthdays, funerals. You name it. </p><p>When he gets offered a job to play at a wedding in the coming months, he runs into the photographer, and his life takes an unexpected turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I literally saw a pic of Harry with a camera and this fic idea came to mind hahaha rip @ me and u 
> 
> Pls comment and whatever else u wanna do!!! I appreciate it!!

The white and black keys stared up at him, patiently waiting to be played. It had been a few weeks since he had time to play for himself and not for an event, but he didn't mind. He loved playing for other people and his work had allowed him to meet some wonderful people, which some he had grown close to. Never did he think making music would get him where he is today.

It had only been five years since he had been admitted to rehab for a drug overdose, which later lead to finding out about his eating disorder. And it had only been two years since he was released. While he was in rehab he grew attached to a grand piano they had in the common room. No one ever played it, and Louis found that odd. Why have a piano if you're not going to play it? So he asked the caregivers if he could play and they kindly allowed him.

For the first three weeks he played nothing but the same two songs on repeat. Some patients threw fits about it, cussing him out to stop. But he didn't. He never did. For three years he played and played, and when they finally brought in a teacher for him, he started getting better by the month.

Now he sat in his small apartment in London and the August sun had just started to set. He breathed in the smell of the coming season and exhaled. He loved everything about autumn. Especially the weddings. The amount of weddings he got called to play at during the autumn was astounding. But so far no one had called. His last event was three weeks ago at a funeral, which brought him down more than he thought it would. He was never good at dealing with loss, even if it wasn't his own.

He traced the piano keys with his fingertips and inhaled. This was where he felt at home, right here. He pushed down on the keys gently, slowly at first and then escalated into song. He had no sheet music — he didn't need any. Everything he played was either memorized or played on the spot. And now his fingers danced over the keys on autopilot, his foot stepping on the pedals whenever he seemed fit.

Then his cell phone rang — or, well vibrated, and threw him off his rhythm. The phone vibrated against the piano made a noise louder than he thought possible and he exhaled sharply, closing his eyes.

Maybe he'd have more time to himself over Christmas.

A number he didn't recognize lit up his phone screen and he pursed his lips. Be could ignore it, but they'd only call back. So he answered.

"Hello?" He said.

"Lou? That you, mate?" A breathy voice replied.

Louis' face paled, his hand went numb and he turned around in his chair.

"Sorry, you—uh—have the wrong number," Louis stammered, mouth going dry.

"I know your voice anywhere, Tommo," the voice continued, sounding jittery. "You gotta hook me up, man."

Louis struggled to swallow the knot at the back of his throat. He felt like he was choking. Maybe he was.

"I-I dont – I don't do that anymore," he stammered, heart racing. He could hear the voice speaking on the other end of the phone but he couldn't make out what he was saying. It all sounded muffled as if he were listening through glass. He hastily hung up and placed his phone facing down on the piano.

Five years and somehow his past always came back to haunt him, to pull him back in to that darkness he never thought he'd get out of. Part of him wanted to smash his phone into pieces and buy a new one, with a new number. But somehow he felt like they'd still find him, no matter what he did. They'd always find him.

After a few minutes of calming down, he set back to playing and halfway through the song his phone vibrated. 


	2. loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is pretty rough for now i just didn't wanna leave the fic abandoned but ill prob edit it and stuff after school starts!! but i hope u enjoy ! ! ! !

It had been a long six weeks since he got the call about his sister's passing. 

The funeral was held that weekend, though he barely remembered it. His mind was clouded with thoughts of her. Ways she could've been saved. If only she left a few moments later, she could've avoided that drunken driver and Louis wouldn't have to watch her body being lowered into the earth. It was devastating. After the funeral he had been getting calls to do weddings, birthdays, and funerals. He had answered a few of them and told them he was off work due to a family death. But now he just kept his phone on silent, muted the notifications. He couldn't stand looking at another piano, not now. There was no will in him to play music, to make his fingers dance around the piano keys the way they used to.

The first time he tried to play after her passing, the notes wouldn't come to him, and the ones that did wouldn't sound right. Other times he tried to play and his fingers froze on the keys, his mind drawing a blank. At first he thought he had forgotten how to play the piano, which was ridiculous, but then he realized he just couldn't play knowing his sister would never hear his music. Knowing that was the worst of it all. 

Before rehab, Louis had played a few instruments here and there. Nothing special, but he would pick up a guitar his parents had around the house and he'd strum some notes for Charlotte and she'd smile at him or laugh and ask him to play her something else. He'd play along when they were younger, pretending he was a famous rockstar and she was his number one fan. Even now that he played at small events, she'd come to support him. Now, who would? Who'd be there to hug him after each event and tell him how wonderful he did? Sure, the clients would praise him, but they had to. 

A tear rolled down his the end of his nose and landed on the piano keys laid out in front of him. He was sitting at his piano, staring at the keys. He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand and set his fingers on the keys. They slid off lazily and he dragged himself away from the piano. 

It was never going to be better. 

* * *

Louis was never a fan of irony but it seemed to follow him around.

The sky was clear and blue as he'd ever seen it. The sun beat down on him and he had to squint one eye closed to focus on his surroundings. Birds sang in the trees around him while squirrels and chipmunks scurried around chasing each other. Louis would've loved the day, if he weren't standing in front of his sister's grave. How the day could be alive with life when someone had just lost theirs. Part of him thought she was creating this day specifically for him, like how she used to give him sweets whenever he was feeling down. But he knew the dead were dead, they weren't made of magic no matter how much he wanted to believe it. 

The cool October breeze ruffled his hair and threw his coat out. He knelt down on a patch of dried leaves - they crunched under his knees - and he pursed his lips at the tombstone in front of him. Everything about it seemed like a lie, like a dream. He had to wake up any second now, right? This couldn't be real. The date carved into the stone was still fresh to sight, the years all too close together to make sense. She shouldn't have died. Tears filled his eyes and silently fell down his cheeks. He traced his fingers over her name and made a promise to her. The words barely escaped his mouth as he spoke. He stood up, wiped his eyes and looked around the cemetery. He glanced a few rows up and saw a man standing with flowers in his hands. He bent over to put them down beside the tombstone, his hair fell forward and as he stood up he took something out of his coat and walked a few steps back. As the man finished, Louis realized he had taken a picture. 

Instead of sitting at home, staring at his piano keys all day long and crying off and on, he decided to bring his guitar to Charlotte's grave. At least that way, maybe he could get back into playing music. But he didn't think it would be so hard. The first day he tried, he just sat in the grass, fingers on the chords but his mind, again, was empty. He couldn't think of any songs to play for her - _what was her favourite song, again?_ That thought made him tear up all over again. God, he couldn't even remember what she liked. How long until he forgot her completely? If it weren't for photographs of her, he was sure he'd forget her face in the coming years. 

Before Christmas came Louis made it his goal to play for her. He'd let himself freeze to death if he had to. But when Christmas came a storm had passed over London that had been so bad, roads were closed for days. The money he had been living off of was starting to run out and he knew he had to accept some kind of event he'd been getting, but what good would it do if he couldn't even play one filthy song? He couldn't even play for his own sister. She'd be so disappointed in him. 

 _"You stopped playing because of me? I can't believe this, Louis! You can't just drop your dream because I'm gone. We're all gonna be gone one day, that shouldn't stop you from doing what you love."_ Those were the same words he heard every night. When she'd come into his dreams and yell at him for being so pathetic. He knew she was right, of course she was. But she wasn't the one dealing with the loss. He was the one waking up every morning without a sister. He'd never see her get married, never take care of her kids.

If life's so fragile, then what's the point of trying? 

Nothing was ever going to feel right again. Not after this. 

 

A year later and still, Louis couldn't get himself to play more than a few notes. And that was just on guitar. The piano was still something he couldn't seem to grasp. Maybe it was still shock or mourning, he wasn't sure how it worked, but he knew that whenever he got near his piano - any piano - he froze. The notes left his memory as soon as he tried to play and at times he could've sworn that he couldn't even hear the piano. It was all muffled and distant. No matter how hard he pressed the keys, he couldn't hear the notes. 

For now he stuck to the guitar. Even if he barely played it, at least he had gotten further with it than with the piano. 

Some days he would take his guitar to the cemetery with him and sit on the grass in front of Charlotte's grave, and strum a few simple chords. He hadn't learned any songs yet, but he hummed a tune he knew she'd like and kept strumming at random until the sun started to set. Soon he started to come to terms with her passing. He still missed her like crazy, of course. And his heart ached every time he thought of her smile, but he didn't let the world crumble around him because of it. Instead, he picked himself up and put all his sorrow into playing music, even if that meant playing on a different instrument. The piano would always be there to welcome him home when he was ready. If he ever was. 


End file.
